"Don't harm him," said Jack, carelessly: "he dares not do it. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. . She come home within a few months of the wedding. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. This happened after he ate. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. " "He's no such thing!" cried Mrs.
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